Never Loving Neverland
by TayzAnne
Summary: Dancing around a solitary figure with fiery hair similar to the flame the lost boys worshipped, her thoughts were lost in the image of the figure that preyed upon her still form; sucked away at her innocence, hope and shaped her to be his little bird. Peter Pan had possessed her for centuries, and the return of past faces, a saviour and the boy wouldn't threaten that.
1. Chapter One

_**Chapter One:**_

Clary kept her bright, hazel eyes focused as she counted the stars, seeing the numbers drop lower and lower. She released a heavy sigh, wishing she could float up and follow them. Disappear as just another lost number. Another lost girl.

Her legs dangled below her, far too high to even think of reaching the ground. Palms indented on the floor beneath and back arched, so she could see out the top of the leaves shrouding her view. She spent most of her time here, on her perch, swinging in the trees. Wooden beams kept her enclosed, leaves covering the top from view. A few blankets and a pillow added comfort so she could sleep her time away.

The camp was fairly silent for once, Pan was in one of his moods, so everyone was keeping their distance. She had wanted to ask for a covering or jacket some time ago but thought it better not to bother. Shivers caused goose bumps to texture her skin, the blanket she had draped around her shoulder not doing much to contain any heat. The lower thigh length dress didn't help either, rough fabric edges tickled her skin. The top half had a mixture of different coloured layers which did well against most cold, it rested fairly high towards her throat, but only reached just above her elbows.

She couldn't wait to be lowered when food was ready, so she could really sit by the fire, but until then she was left with the muted heat of the embers that barely reached where she nested.

Giving up on her counting as it just made her feel mournful, she shuffled further into the wooden frame, content that Pan's magic would keep it steady. Moving another, but smaller, blanket over her legs, she became lost in her thoughts.

Pan being in a mood must mean something he had planned wasn't going well. And his plans were never good news. It made her tense, which made her disloyal, which led to punishment. At the thought her hand briefly skimmed over the most recent little of scars, before forcing herself to ignore the ever-present stinging. The island was losing some of its colour, its personality. Something was happening that everyone but her knew about. She assumed it had something to do with the 'heart of the truest believer' she heard him mumbling and ranting about. The one he thought Bae might have, or Lloyd, or James, or countless other boys he'd compared to this image and discarded when they became useless to his cause. When they cried.

The light smell of fresh meat being cooked was becoming stronger and stronger, and her stomach was growing impatient as she was left waiting. The smell was causing more a rummage below, as lost boys trickled back into camp, which meant conversations begun and the fire strengthened to heat so many.

Peter had been pacing through camp a few times, as had Felix and Cae, but other than that, he had remained rather absent. Not that she would complain, it was just one of those boring days where she couldn't do anything but sit or etch or sleep. The trees surrounding her were covered in hundreds of drawings and becoming scarce of space which concerned her. Without the books he kept hidden unless she was really good or the natural paints or clay, she had little to do in the way of entertainment. They spent most of their days sleeping anyway, as the heat on Neverland could be more brutal than the cold. Night-time was their haven, to dance and cheer and hunt, everything was done during dusk till dawn. She preferred night anyway, so found no issues in seeing her stars, watching mermaids, chasing fireflies.

Jerking her alert, the perch was slowly lowered down, and Cary hopped down from where it stopped, her bare feet almost silent on the soft ground. Roger handed her a bowl and moved on quickly. No physical contact and no eye contact. No contact with anyone other than Pan.

She stretched her legs, resting the bowl in her perch as she cracked her bones and shook her limbs to rid the cramp from her body. Debating where to sit, she determined she was done with the perch for the day and curled in front of the closest tree to the fire, the warmth adding a glow to her skin.

Grumbles of greeting and rustling alerted her to Pan's return, which she glanced up at and sighed again.

Peter Pan stood somewhat shadowed by the flickering of the fire, dark and poised even in the gate of light. His trousers just skimmed his calf, boots reaching the top of his ankles, where the edge of a knife could be seen poking out the side. He was subconsciously adjusting the leather cuff around his wrist, the cuff that connected to the anklet she wore around her own ankle. His own layers jacket was done up to cross over other, tied with a belt that was much plainer than her own, but made with the same dusty leather as his boots. The collar of his shirt was caked in blood, as was the side of his neck and some splatters on his cheek. Clary could just make out a few glistening strands in his rough hair as he spoke in hushed voices to Felix.

When he finally moved away from the fire, he was handed his own bowl of food, which he accepted with a nod before his eyes flickered to her perch. Seeing it empty, it didn't take long for his emerald gaze to locate her agile form masked by the edges of the tree.

Strolling towards her, he took a seat on the closest log to her, using his fingers to dig apart the meat of the animal, capturing any liquid to split down his fingers with a languished stroke of his tongue. She looked away then and heard him chuckle distractedly. He knew the effect he had on her to the extent that he barely had to try.

"Did you catch dinner?" she asked, knowing silence would just provoke him to becoming bored and touching her or riling her up somehow.

"No," Pan grumbled, throwing his bowl into the waiting hands of another lost boy, who stacked them with the others. "One of the lost boys fell."

Clary paused in eating her own food, staring at the last few remaining pieces with a sorrowful look before making herself continue before she made Peter mad. Any weakness was to be dealt with. Most likely he fell and had no way to redeem his strength in Pan's eyes, so he was killed. If Peter thought for a second she felt any sympathy for another boy on the island, his jealously wouldn't work in her favour.

Standing up, she returned the bowl with the others before stretching her back against the tree, then her legs again. Peter just watched her with knowing eyes that skimmed down her body. However, his gazing was interrupted as his head jerked suddenly towards where Clary knew the shore was. Curiosity spiked, she couldn't help the glint of hope that blossomed in her chest, threatening to consume her.

"Felix" he ordered, who had already assembled a group of boys, awaiting orders. "Go give them the official Home Office welcome."

Clary watched them go with suspicion, seeing Pan become almost giddy as he waved the blood off himself.

"Get in" Pan ordered, not glancing at her defeated expression.

"I have been this whole time" she commented, before seeing his eyes flash in warning. With a frustrated huff, she climbed back into the perch, Pan waving his finger so bars surrounded what was the exit, trapping her inside. "What's happening?" she dared to ask.

Pan turned to her with a slanted, manic grin spreading across his face.

"The game."

 _ **Welcome to my new fanfic. If you've read The Prince's Prisoner, you will find some similarities in behaviour and Clary/Aria. There is only so much original content I can think off.**_

 _ **This will be dark, most likely darker than TPP. This is your warning!**_

 _ **Any feedback on how this sounds, let me know. You are entering this story smack-bang in the middle of their relationship, so some chapters might be flashbacks to past events, but most 'should' be the present story.**_

 _ **Please message me or review on initial thoughts, or idea's throughout.**_

 _ **Thanks Tayz x**_


	2. Chapter Two

_**Chapter Two:**_

The game. What else would it be? He was consumed by the notion that life worked as nothing more than a board and he moved the piece. He wasn't even a player, he was the force that controlled each action and consequence. His lost boys nothing but pawns.

She didn't even know where she fit anymore. Certainly not the Queen, with all that power and freedom. No, she was most likely the King, trapped behind lines of people who controlled her, cornered at every move and limited in her decisions.

All Clary had ever wanted was freedom, but lying on the bottom of her platform, legs curled together and eyes heavy with exhaustion, she had never felt further. Dawn would be upon them soon. She doubted Peter would be back if there really was a game in progress. He would most likely go to another camp, possibly bring her along, but she doubted. She also doubted he'd let her down, so she had made herself permanently comfortable if this was her position for the next few days.

When given any other option, she could sleep perfectly fine. But the minute it became the only thing she could do, that unconscious glory became as illusive as pixie dust. Clary knew without Pan, she was unlikely to sleep. They never slept especially well without each other, not that it had ever been a common occurrence.

They hadn't raised her high enough to get a good enough view, but she just about noticed the two, shimmering green forms flying above the trees. So, this boy really was the truest believer. Time and time again Pan had tested each boy in three ways. Against the image, with pixie dust and through imagination. Most didn't make it through the pixie dust stage without falling to their deaths. Sometimes Pan saved them if they seemed worthy.

Her eyes followed them as long as they could without her moving, no point jumping up all excited, drawing useless attention. If Pan wanted the boy to know about this camp, he could it himself.

Things were going to really kick off now. Pan had been subtly preparing everyone for weeks, extra training, recruiting more boys, collecting dreamshade and supplies. Everything had been working towards getting this heart. Peter often explained snippets of intel to her at night, just enough to quell her curiosity, but not enough to give her ideas.

Wrapping herself more cosily in her blankets, Clary decided to just wait for Pan to involve her himself. It took a while for her eyes to droop enough for her to fall asleep. It was fitful and mainly consumed with nightmares. She launched herself awake with a croaked 'Peter', but of course no one came. It didn't seem like she had been asleep for than a few hours. There were significantly less lost boys in the camp now, meaning something must have happened.

It must have been almost 8 hours since Peter had disappeared. Not that she could be sure seeing as night and time were such a complex concept in Neverland. If she had to guess, Pan most likely was in either the camp near the North Mountains, near Crab Sound, or the woods South East of the Indian Village. They seemed to be flying from near the shore, and heading North, so had most likely passed the woods, and were heading to the Mountains. But those were the most secure camps, he wouldn't risk being too close to the Bay, as that's where most deals were done.

Her finger aimlessly floated over the map etched into the bottom of the perch. She rarely left this camp, as it was the most secure, guarded and hidden. It was positioned right in between two offshores of the island, Mermaid Lagoon and Cane's Reach. Easy access, positioning. Didn't make her escape any easier, but she had a nice view. But Pan had given her a map once, leading her all over the island to try and find someone she cared for. Another stupid game. She lost.

Boredom clawed at her again. While she was certainly used to sitting in the tree for long periods of time, usually Peter or Felix or someone interesting was there to keep her company. Right now, there were a few underlings, such as Rufio, Leon and Bear. The younger kids mainly, and two older ones to keep check. She didn't need that much protection seeing as Pan's magic made her invincible inside the wooden cage. Nothing could get in, and nobody would ever get out.

Hours trickled by slower, the brief moments of daylight came and went quickly, quicker than usual which she assumed was Pan's doing seeing as the whole island was connected to him. But as the hours slipped by, more boys started appearing in camp, including some people she knew left with the original group, such as Cae and Roger. This meant Pan would be along shortly.

When Felix strolled in, a boy unconscious over his shoulder, Clary started to pay attention. He was wearing jeans and a chequered red shirt, along with trainers. Clothes, actual clothes she could identify and knew. Clothes from her time, from the world she remembered vaguely.

Felix lay the boy down a couple trees from her, leaving him resting on a piece of fabric, before he too slipped into the crowd of boys.

Clary felt hunger slip over her as she realised it must have been well towards 15 hours since Pan had left, and she had eaten. No one else seemed fazed, Clary cursing their stronger training and distractions to stop them from noticing basic human necessities. Then again, Neverlands magic helped them not become ill, stay young and healthy.

Everyone was talking and glancing at the boy, as if waiting. Waiting for him to return.

They weren't made to wait long as the leaves parted, and Peter strolled in with a smirk, observing the boy who still seemed to have a little sleep left in him from his Grandfathers magic.

"Someone grab the apples" Pan ordered, and Clary leant her head back in aggravation. She hated target practice with a passion. It was just a way to victimise someone, to torment them, or kill them.

Someone raced off one of the trees, returning quickly with a small bundle of the food supply. He tossed one towards Pan, who caught it without even looking at him.

The boy started stirring, rubbing his eyes tiredly as his face peered at Pan with curiosity and fear. Seemed they must have spent some time together before being brought here.

"Wake up" Pan commanded, as if the boy naturally rising had been his order and not natures. "Catch." He threw the apply at the boy with no intention of him catching it.

"I don't like apples" the boy argued back, not rising to meet Pan like every other lost boy would.

"Who doesn't like apples?" Peter scowled, his continued ploys with the boy failing time and time again.

"It's a family thing" he snarked back, before Pan was forced to kneel in front of him almost threateningly when he didn't rise again.

"Well don't worry, they aren't for eating. It's for a kind of game" that word scent more shivers up her spine. "A really fun game. I call it target practice."

Clary rolled her eyes at the theatricality before seeing the other boys grow agitated in the growing suspense. Target Practice never failed to disappoint in some form of entertainment.

The boy finally rose to his feet, Pan moving the crossbow out of his face and going over to wear another Lost boy was holding a bottle of dreamshade. The other boy seemed curious, unaware of the dangerous and deadly properties of the poison. Peter didn't waste any time on calling on his right-hand man to be the apple stand, Felix rising from by the fire and sauntering over.

"Is Felix good? Is his aim good?" The boy asked nervously, taking a small step back in worry. Felix was a good shot, annoyingly good Clary had discovered too often.

"Doesn't matter" Pan shrugged, "You're the one doing the shooting."

He handed the boy the crossbow as Felix smirked to himself. The others started chanting as the boy tried to refuse, Felix already getting into position and Peter clearing a path for the boy to aim.

"You won't hit him" Peter promised, his glowing with excitement. "Trust yourself, go on." Felix positioned the apple; the boy rose the weapon. "It's exhilarating." He could his Felix for all frustration he had caused Clary, and she was tempted to turn around and just ignore it all.

Peter rose his arm to stop the chanting in anticipation at what the boy would do, everyone staring intently as he lined up the crossbow carefully, taking his time. The boy gave it away too soon however, even Clary could see from her position. His eyes flickered to Pan's just before he shot towards him. It was a beginner's mistake, but one that cost him his chance at hurting Pan. It wouldn't have killed him, nothing could.

Everyone cheered regardless, Pan taking a deep breath as he caught the arrow an inch before he would have impaled his skin. With a smug expression, this idea planned from the start, Peter led the boy into the woods without a second glance.

Guess we aren't eating, she thought bitterly, resting back against the wooden frame as the lost boys calmed themselves down from the thrill they just witnessed.

The day started creeping darker, the lost boys stacking the fire further. It was almost completely dusk before the boy and Peter returned, acting as if nothing that had happened before had even passed. Almost like friends. Clary wanted to scoff but was more annoyed she had been forced to sit in this cage for over a day without any food and only a practically empty cannister of water.

Everyone was chatting and laughing, too loudly for Clary to hear the private conversation the two new buddies were having nearby. She observed it carefully, seeing the boys defensive body language, Peter's open and inviting position. Her eyes widened as the picture he had treasured so long was handed over. So it was him, there wasn't a doubt if Pan was willing to hand over the one thing he had strived for all this time. This wasn't a good sign. Peter with the mighty power he held now was bad enough, Pan with unlimited power and immortality would be the final lock on her ball and chain.

Peter walked towards her as the boy threw the paper away, his smirk present as if everything was falling into the exact right place. He whispered something to Felix, who instantly took off into the trees on his mission.

"What do you think?" Peter asked Clary, observing her hunched body wrapped tightly in a blanket.

"Of the boy?" She returned and continued when he nodded. "Weak. Strong minded sure, but he won't get very far with emotions like that."

"He doesn't need too" Pan chuckled, leaning against the edge of her perch to observe the boy carefully. "Henry's emotions are exactly what we need."

"You need" she mumbled, seeing him glance at her with an eyebrow raised. "Sorry, I'm just…tired." The excuse was lame, they both knew it, but Peter got the gist of what she wanted.

"You have been rather good the last few days, little bird" he whispered, reaching a hand through the bars to lightly play with the twine clasped around her ankle, his own cuff radiating its connection to it. "Don't leave camp. Don't say anything to the boy."

Clary nodded quickly, desperate to stretch any of her limbs. As the bars faded away, she stumbled out of the wooden frame and collapsed instantly into Peter. He captured her chin in his fingers, raising her eyes to meet his. He leant down a little as if preparing to kiss her, but his eyes flickered to where the boy was watching them carefully and chose to back away. He straightened her up, waiting for the feeling to return in her feet before releasing her into the camp.

She moved around the outskirts, never breaking barrier, but not in the centre. As nightfall hit, the camp was becoming more daring, heightened and intense. Cheering and almost tribal dances were creeping in. It wouldn't be long before food was up and then every single lost boy was parading around the fire in a tyranny of cries.

"Hey" a small voice piped up, and she knew instantly who. Pan said don't say anything, but did that mean don't speak at all or don't reveal anything. Surely just walking away would be more suspicious than just avoiding the boy's questions.

"Hi" Clary mumbled back, seeing suspicion and wonderment in his eyes as he stepped towards her.

"I'm Henry. I haven't seen another girl here at all?" His question came as a statement, which through her off a moment before she took a breath and calmed her shaking nerves. Pan wouldn't punish in front of the boy, clearly they were putting on a façade of decency for him.

"I'm the only girl in camp" Clary didn't mention Tink, Tiger-Lily, Wendy, Mermaids, Indians, all the others, admittedly few, women that called the island their home.

"Why?" Henry continued, oblivious to her inner turmoil at having to think over every single word carefully.

"Peter thought I was…special" she summarised how deep the obsession ran. "Like you."

"He says I'm the one to save magic" Henry informed what she already knew. "I don't know what that even means."

"It's true" she admitted, averting her gaze from where Pan was staring, already turning to head towards them. "You are the one to save the magic Henry." Peter's magic, but magic was magic.

"Ah Henry, I see you've met Clary" Pan appeared, warning sparking from his eyes as he stood beside her and rested a hand possessively against the back of her waist.

"She said you aren't lying" Henry spoke honestly, Peter seeming confused by his words. Why would she help him when he kept her captured here?

"That's because I'm not" Peter continued. "Why don't you forget about that for now, join in the celebration?" Pan offered, not moving his hand from Clary, but loosening his grip a fraction.

"Nothing to celebrate" the boy returned with a defeated monotone in his voice.

"Henry this whole party is to celebrate you" Pan manipulated, stepped in front of Clary and towards the boy. She didn't dare move, he'd have made her aware if he wanted her too.

"Me? Why?" he asked incredulously.

"Because you've come to save magic of course. And I for one can't think of a reason more deserving of celebration than that. Just look at them" Peter commented, seeing his boys dancing fearlessly and energetically, lose and free around the fire.

"I'm not like them. Or you" Henry continued to argue.

"Sure you are" Peter fought back, sitting up more straight. "You're still a boy. Maybe a song will get you on your feet."

Clary tensed herself. The pipes Pan played, while echoing the lost essence of every lost boy, causing them to abandon their woes and dance the night away, it heightened a lost girl's, made her emotions heighten and her joy dim. It was consuming and a sound she hated greatly. Pan leant down and blew into the pipes.

Nothing.

"I'm sorry, I don't hear anything" Henry admitted as well, Pan seeming confused and intrigued for a moment. He went to explain, but the sight of Felix hurrying through the crowd spurred him to his feet. Anger radiated off Peter as he threw his hand up to tell Clary to also stay where she was.

"What kind of children?" he echoed to Clary, who sat next to him with a sigh.

"I don't know" she lied. "I uh, didn't hear it either." Her mind fumbled, why hadn't she heard it? Did her emotions know something she didn't? Clearly, she didn't feel so lost if she hadn't heard the song. Was it the boy? The changes and rifts in camp that had lit this spark of hope within her. If Pan knew, he would be furious. Hope was the one thing he never wanted her to have. Hope of escape, of freedom.

Pan walked back over once done with Felix, staring at Clary rather strangely, as if he knew something was different.

"Is this a trick?" Henry spoke up, earning Pan's attention. "She didn't hear it either, so why are you playing these games?"

Clary closed her eyes tightly in deep regret. This boy spoke more than was good for him, and it was going to bite him on the ass very quickly.

"It will take time" Pan practically seethed through his teeth, glaring at the girl shaking in front of him. "Why don't you join in or wait here Henry. Me and Clary need to talk."

The boy didn't question it as much as she begged he would, just to stop what was about to happen. When they had passed from the boy's views, Pan hooked her arm painfully and dragged her into a small enclose in one of the nearby trees, pinning her roughly against the wood by her throat.

"I can't control my emotions" Clary choked out, trying to defend herself.

"Things are changing, Clary, that is true" Peter spoke calmly despite their position. "But nothing between us does. You are still mine, still here and still trapped, do you understand? Whatever happens within the next few days, you take one step out of my line, and I will carve it up your spine."

"I'm sorry Peter" she whispered, still dangling there a moment before her released her with a pained sob.

He didn't say anything, returning them to camp where she went quickly to her perch. It wasn't barred up this time, but it didn't need to be. The red stain around her neck was enough of a warning.

The night continued until a strong breeze swept the fire out and all the lost boys dropped to the ground.

"Peter?" she asked quietly, but he just rose a finger to his lips and rising to his feet with a chuckle.

"We have a guest" he announced. "Someone who no doubt knows how much I like guessing games." He spun towards the East of the camp where a shadow started to emerge. Clary stayed completely still, almost blending into the background. "Who could it be? I guess…the Dark One."

The fire roared to life, illuminating the figure she had seen only once in her life. The son of Peter Pan, well the man he was before. It was terrifying, seeing two incredible powerful, magical practitioners staring off at each other, centuries of history simmering between them.

"Come to save Henry, have you laddie?" Peter started to mock. "How exciting. The Dark One ready to sacrifice his life for his family." Family? "Speaking of family, you can come out now."

A torch flared to life on the edge of camp as a figure aimed a crossbow from behind the tree, never breaking his target as he moved into the clearing.

Aged a fair amount, stumble crumbled his chin and jaw, eyes harsher and wise beyond his years. Dark hair matched that of the main a little ahead of him and skin was wrinkled a little around the sides. But he looked exactly the same. Felt exactly the same.

Clary didn't realise what she doing until it was too late. Falling from her perch, she stepped over the fallen bodies as the two new sets of eyes turned to her, the newest widening considerably as the arrow lowered ever so slightly in shock.

"Clary?" he whispered, ignoring everyone else around him as he took a reflexive step forwards, his emotions practically clouding any sense of realty as he saw her. Same green dress, mad red hair and fierce hazel eyes. Same scar protruding from the edge of her collar and around the side of her neck, similar bruises and cuts scattering other visible parts of her skin. The same. All of it was exactly as it had been centuries ago when he had stood in that very same stop and seen her for the very first time.

"Baelfire" she breathed, before she fell to the ground unconscious.

 _ **You have no idea how much of a weird relief it is to not have to think of chapter names. Some of TPP are becoming comically desperate. Speaking off, Chapter 32 - Choke, is in progress.**_

 _ **Hope you liked the second chapter, this story will be updated a lot slower than my other one as it is a more canon based piece, and doesn't involve the same kind of skips TPP does.**_

 _ **Hope you enjoyed! Please review! Favourite and follow for continued updates.**_

 _ **Thanks, Tayz x**_


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